Dear Friends,
Well, we meet all kinds as flight attendants...and some teach us just how to appreciate what we have with a generosity that is almost obsessive. Hmmm, lucky are the givers..
Love and Happy Thanksgiving...be ye UP THERE or with the ones YOU love.
Love,
Heather
THANKSGIVING ADAPTATION
IF YOU CAN'T BE WITH THE ONES YOU LOVE, LOVE THE ONES YOUR WITH!
Heather McKeown-Inflight
We never know what sort of people will board our planes, but there's a general consensus among our ranks that, there's about one of everything represented on our flights. Where Noah's Ark carried two of every sort of beast, we transport one of each personality. Personally, this fact is what makes being a flight attendant fascinating. As I write this, it's the eve of Thanksgiving, 2012 and every airline is expecting to be running full operations with heavy load factors this year. The weather's actually good for flying so the usual cancellations that befall most major holidays may be held at by this year.
The stressful race to chosen tables begins a week before the big day. Everyone's heading to Grandma's, Mom's, Sister's, Brother's or Best Friend's place to eat turkey. Sometimes its a command performance. Other times its with a willing, happy heart that sets the tone for the occasion. Last night, there was a special case scenario that lead me to remember that some people don't have people awaiting them at the other end and that their celebratory agenda is more of a lonely time than anything else. Lonely, that is, if they haven't adapted to the reality that they're not really loved or accepted by society.
I was walking around the West Palm Beach departure area, meeting and greeting the passengers who would soon board my plane to Hartford. There were exceptionally well-turned out elderly people in wheelchairs, some beautiful coiffed and attired middle-aged people, a young mother and her ringlet haired daughter and, as the flight was to be full, the usual cast of characters rounded out the population.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder and as I turned, I heard, “Excuse me, do you work here? I need some help here.”
The speaker was lovely looking and I thought she was probably going to ask to have her location on the plane changed to a window or aisle instead of the dreaded middle seat. Boy, was I wrong! Close by was a woman of enormous bulk, leaning heavily on the handles of a wheelchair. With disheveled, graying hair dangling to her shoulders, a cheap cotton blouse that was partially unbuttoned, some terrible sort of baggy sweatpants covering her lower half and glasses that looked to dirty to be any sort of visual aid, the enormous woman was breathing so heavily I could hear her from ten feet away.
“What seems to be the problem?” I asked the lady who'd stopped me.
“Well, this woman is lost. She left her baggage with another woman and now she can't find her.”
I walked over to the wheezing one and said, “Please, let's get you seated in this chair and then we'll go hunting for your baggage, OK?”
“I can't find her! I went to buy her a bottle of water and I can't find her now!” said the panicked one.
“Are you on the Hartford flight, Ma'am?”
“Yes, and so was the lady who's watching my bag!”
“Well, don't worry, we'll find her because this is the right departure gate.”
Getting her into the wheelchair would be a challenge. You see, it was absolutely covered with plastic bags filled with stuffed animals. No less than twenty, newly-purchased-from-the-airport-gift shop toys were loosely stuffed into bag after bag. The good Samaritan and I started unloading the chair and I had the bright idea the they could be hung on handles of said conveyance. Accomplishing this, we managed to seat this gargantuan woman and I tried to push her forward. One of the bags immediately got stuck between a wheel and the seat of the chair. OH NO! The good Samaritan and I locked eyes and then tried to reverse the vehicle to force the wedged bag out. It worked but another problem reared its ugly head. I could not push the chair alone. Looking beseechingly at the nice helper was all it took. Each of us grabbed a handle and leaned into the task. Slowly the chair inched forward and within a minute, the bag and its guardian had been identified. Once the reunion was complete, the problem of carry on baggage became evident. A big suitcase, a large rag-purse and bag after plastic bag of stuffed animals.“Ma'am, are you planning to take all of this onboard with you?”
“Yes! But please, miss, help me find the water I bought for this woman. It's here somewhere. It is. I bought it. I bought all of this. I can spend a lot of money fast! They're presents!”
With her encouragement, I started looking in her huge cloth purse because she thought she'd put the purchased water there. There were untold numbers of medications in every pocket, loose money, lots of geegaws and unidentifiable objects but no water.
The woman was beginning to panic, “OH, I know I bought water. Where could it be? I know I bought it for you! Thank you for watching my suitcase. Please, believe me when I tell you that I got you water! OH, please go through all the bags and find that water for me!”
That I did. Palpating every soft body within each bag until, finally, I found the two bottles of water. “Here it is!”
“OH! There's one cold one. Give that to this woman and give me the warm one. I'm a diabetic and I haven't eaten for an entire day! I'm an R.N.”
“Ma'am, as an R.N. and a diabetic, you must know that skipping meals isn't good at all. Are you sure you'll be alright to fly north?”
“Yes! I came here to see someone but I have to leave now. I have to get home. I have all these gifts! It's just been so crazy here, you understand?”
“There's an awful lot of medication in your purse, is there something I should know about your condition before we board?” I whispered.
“NO! I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just been crazy and it's going to be Thanksgiving and I have to give out these presents. I'm fine. I'm fine.”
I retrieved a large garbage bag from the supply cupboard and put the twenty or so lose bags into this one, telling my ward that, because she'd be last off the plane, I'd find a place in some overhead bin and reunite her with them as she deplaned from her first row seat.
I noticed that the woman who had connected me with and helped me push this bedraggled, befuddled woman had absented herself without a word. One of the elderly men I'd spoken with earlier signaled me and said, “Heather, come here, please.” He was patrician in his bearing and I'd say a blue blood with generations of financial and social success, Ivy League educated ancestors and his own tailor. I held up my index finger, signaling, “One minute, please.” The gentleman, unaccustomed to being placed second in anything, looked positively aghast as I mouthed this message and continued organizing the possessions of my starving diabetic lady.
Finally, all seemed ready and I did make my way over to the elegant man. “Yes, Sir? You wanted to speak with me?”
“I thought you were a flight attendant on the plane. You're acting like that, that, that crazy
woman's maid!” he said quietly but with a fierce reprimand therein.
“Servitude is my pleasure and an honor, Sir.” No words were truer spoken. I gave a shallow bow and a sincere smile as I patted his arm, before disengaging and walking to the plane's entrance.
The flight was busy and everybody told me who would be meeting them at the airport and how much fun they were about to have on the upcoming festive occasion. Everyone was so happy and excited to be heading toward love. I managed to make it up to row one a couple of times to check on the troubled woman. According to the flight attendant who took care of her every wish throughout the flight, her behavior was loud, obnoxious and erratic. This was no surprise to me. Then I was told, “She called someone when we landed at Hartford. She just asked, “How are my cats?”
You see, the gifts were for her kitties. Her Thanksgiving will be shared with her furry friends and nobody else. That's my take on her situation, anyway. Come to think of it, with the way her behavior isn't what most find acceptable, having the love of her cats awaiting her arrival doesn't seem too sad at all. She obviously dotes on them and they'll just accept her as is when she finally crosses her home's threshold.
Well, it is Thanksgiving, after all. As we rush to share love, a great meal and the camaraderie of like minds, we can smugly grin at our own best days. However, I'll always remember the woman who, with a happy heart, impulsively bought gifts galore and had no greater joys in her life but her many cats. If there's someone to love awaiting your return home, consider yourself truly lucky. For those who make the most out of the company of their cats, when everyone else is with family or friends, know that I totally respect the inner strength they generate as they make the most of holidays because their pets love them—even if nobody else will.
Thanks Heather
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